


Comfort-Hunting

by Iceshard1011



Series: Ruby Wings [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Chaotic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders is So Done, Domestic Fluff, Logic | Logan Sanders Is A Good Friend, M/M, Mild Language, Morality | Patton Sanders Needs a Hug, Overworking, Platonic Cuddling, References to Depression, banter with a dragon who can't talk, dragontwins, mild sickness, ro's a very helpful little friend, roman has everyone wrapped around his talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceshard1011/pseuds/Iceshard1011
Summary: Casual days in the mindscape, normal as ever... with the addition of a red lizard scurrying about the place.
Relationships: Anxiety & Creativity & Dark Creativity & Deceit & Logic & Morality (Sanders Sides), Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Everyone
Series: Ruby Wings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884613
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Comfort-Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> me, pushing the series to the back of my mind: okay it's finished  
> on ruby wings, hammering on the door: ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT

**Logan**

Roman wanted attention. Logan wanted to read his book in peace. That led to the problem currently at hand. Or, well, talon.

Roman pawed at Logan's leg again, glaring pointedly up at him.

"I've already said no," Logan told him without looking up. "I'm preoccupied. Surely you can find something or someone else to focus your energy on."

 _I want you,_ Roman thought grumpily. The next time he pawed, he didn't bother trying to avoid using his claws. Logan jerked at the unwanted attention. He frowned down at Roman.

"Stop it," he said, his voice as close to a growl as it got. He pushed Roman off him with a dismissive hand. "Any more of this ridiculous behaviour, and I'll leave you to Remus."

Ironically, logically, that should not have been an effective threat.

To Roman, who while in no way feared his brother, was already exhausted of his energetic and loud and disturbing nature, it still managed to be compelling enough. Grumpily, Roman pulled back from Logan. He shuffled back to the other end of the couch, but he didn't stop glowering at the logical side.

Logan dutifully ignored him, to Roman's increasing immense annoyance.

Roman was out of reach now, though. Logan couldn't shoo him away unless he made some very undignified, un-Logan like swipe across the couch.

Taking a deep breath, Roman let out a prologue, low whine.

Logan didn't even blink.

Roman resisted the urge to stomp his talons. He whined again, this time louder.

Logan still hardly reacted beyond what may have been a quiet frustrated sigh.

Without pausing for even a second, Roman upped his pitch. It was almost like singing but without the fun, or the pleasure.

Eventually, though, even with the set of lungs Roman had — even for a tiny lizard, as Virgil liked to label him — he eventually ran out of breath and his plea for attention wilted off into sudden silence.

He sat there, now sulking in quiet, shoulders hunched grumpily.

He didn't notice Logan pausing in his reading for a moment and sparing a glance up at the brooding dragon.

"Finished?" Logan asked.

Roman glanced up. He didn't reply beyond the irritated flick of the end of his tail. Logan nodded, as if that was as much as he had expected.

"Good." With a startling clap, Logan shut his book. Roman twitched in surprise, his ears pricking upward, but he didn't move or make a sound. "Now, what was it that you wanted?"

Roman stared at him without responding for a moment, but Logan only waited patiently.

Cautiously, Roman stood and crept carefully over to Logan. Eyeing him suspiciously, he placed one paw on Logan's leg, but didn't rub at it. Logan watched him, equally as curious, as Roman slowly brought himself up onto Logan's legs. He didn't move in protest, though, and watched as Roman settled himself onto Logan's lap.

Logan raised his eyebrows down at Roman, who blinked almost sheepishly up at him.

Then the logical side rolled his eyes and reopened his book. "Alright, then. As long as you don't interrupt my reading."

Roman brightened at this and thrummed affirmatively. He rested his head against Logan's stomach and dozed as Logan continued to read

* * *

**Virgil**

The term "nails on a chalkboard" could easily be interchanged for "claws on a door". 

At least, Roman was fairly sure that was what Virgil must be thinking at this point. Or he would be soon, if the anxious side didn't dare ignore him for one second longer—

"Stop your blasted scratching before I come out there and throw you into the Imagination by your horns!" came the holler from inside the bedroom. It was followed by a muffled growl and the tell-tale thumps of someone standing up with a huff.

Roman settled back, his tail curling around his front talons placatingly. With satisfaction, he listened to the angry footsteps rapidly approaching the door.

The door swung open and Virgil glared down at him. Without sparing him so much as a glance, Roman stood and trotted imperially past him into the bedroom.

He honestly expected another snap or insult, so when Virgil sighed in defeat, Roman paused just before leaping onto the bed and glanced back at him.

Virgil was paler than usual, and his voice was strangely nasally. Roman wondered distantly in horror if he'd been crying.

"Buddy, I'm sick. You shouldn't be in here."

Ah.

Roman shook himself, ignored Virgil, and jumped up onto his quilt.

That was a thing that had become a normal occurrence — Virgil never referred to Roman as 'buddy' when he was properly formed. Sometimes, when Roman was really down in the dumps, he found himself wondering if Virgil — or the others, for that matter — still even saw him as 'Roman' when he was a dragon. There always seemed to be an instance where those doubts were dispelled, though, and they treated him as they would any other day.

"Get off my bed, you little punk!" Virgil barked with newfound energy.

Exhibit A.

Roman watched him with bored eyes from where he was currently kneading into the comforter beneath his talons.

Virgil sighed again and trudged silently back over to his bed, collapsing into it. Roman wrinkled his nose, the unpleasant smell of exhaustion and illness wafting from the anxious side.

 _Overworked again, did you?_ Roman thought in amusement. He ducked his head and nudged the closest limp, pale hand to him. Virgil grunted in response, and his fingers twitched over Roman's cool scales. He felt feverishly hot.

 _I have half a mind to go fetch Logan and sic him on you,_ Roman grumbled silently.

Whether it was the weight of his glare or the imposing silence, Virgil cracked open his eyes to look over at Roman. He scowled, as if he could read the thoughts flashing through Roman's mind.

"If you try and get _anyone else's_ attention I will skin you myself," he promised. Roman smirked. He stood and crept over the bed to Virgil's side. He frowned pointedly down at his hoodie, still clinging to Virgil's shoulders. No wonder he was hot!

"I'm not taking it off," Virgil told him. Roman growled, his lips curling back to bare his white fangs. Virgil growled back at him, which startled Roman into being quiet. Satisfied, Virgil pulled away and rolled over onto his side.

Roman stared at his back, unsure whether he was more shocked or offended.

He pawed at the back of Virgil's hoodie with an attention-seeking whine.

"If you're going to pester me, Princey, piss off," Virgil grumbled and buried his flushed yet pale face into his pillow.

Roman huffed. Well, that wouldn't do. He wasn't leaving, and Virgil obviously wasn't going to accept help from anyone else. Roman tried to recall what Patton would often do for any of them whenever they felt unwell.

He glanced over to the closed door. He couldn't exactly open that himself, and he didn't want to get Virgil up again (and he wasn't sure he'd be allowed back in afterward anyway). Regardless, Roman wasn't sure he'd be able to get a wet cloth or soup by himself without attracting unwanted attention.

He looked at the bedside table. There was a glass of water there. Good. A box of tissues. Also good.

Roman glanced down at the floor. It wasn't filthy, but there were some clothes and tissues strewn useless about.

Roman tilted his head, considering. He wasn't sure how a lot of Virgil's brain worked, but Roman personally found that whenever he was feeling under the weather, a messy room always made him feel more agitated and sick. He wondered if it worked the same way with Virgil, too.

Leaping down from the bed, Roman sniffed at a discarded shirt lying near the bed leg. It didn't smell like it needed a wash. Maybe Virgil had thrown it to the ground while digging through drawers to find something to wear.

Fastening his teeth carefully over it, he ambled awkwardly backwards to the dresser. He spread it out across the ground and tried, with clumsy claws and short limbs, to fold it in an acceptable manner. It ended up looking more like a wrinkled lump of fabric than a folded shirt.

At a snail's pace, Roman surveyed the room, doing his best to fold clean-smelling clothes and setting them in a neat(-ish) pile besides the dresser. He cupped crumbled tissues in his front talons and carried them at an unbalanced waddle to dispose of them in the bin in the corner of the room.

He got as far as dragging all the dirty clothes over to the laundry basket near the door. He had to pause and look up at the tall, woven box. He was already aware of this, but he was _far too small._

He huffed and swished his tail. Sure, he was small, but he was also Prince Roman, and no _laundry hamper_ was going to best him.

Unsettling his wings, Roman bunched a clawful of clothes between his talons. Glaring up at the top of the bin, he sprung into the air.

He had to flap madly to lift the clothes with him, but after a brief struggle, he was hovering just above the open bin.

Really, Roman should have known he couldn't have _thrown_ a handful of clothes thrice his size.

Regardless, he tried.

Predictably, he spectacularly failed.

Virgil must have fallen asleep, even in the precarious position half-off the bed and neck at an awkward angle, because he jolted when the laundry hamper crashed to the ground. Roman, half buried under the clothes and dragged down with the basket, also shrieked, which probably didn't help.

Virgil sat up, his hair askew, and searched blearily for the source of noise. He squinted at Roman (who did _not_ hunker ashamedly down under that miffed expression) and then glanced around the empty floor.

"Are you... cleaning my room?"

Roman looked down at his talons. _Yeah, laugh it up,_ he thought. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

Virgil stood up and moved over to the toppled hamper. He crouched down to meet Roman's gaze, and once the dragon finally looked up, he realised the anxious side was smiling.

"I don't suppose I could count on you to do this every day, could I?" he teased. Roman shimmied out from underneath the clothes and puffed out his chest.

 _Not unless you pay me for it,_ he thought, lifting his chin.

Virgil's tired but sweet smile grew. "I'm not sure what you just told me but I'm fairly certain it was just as haughty as ever."

Roman stared at him, affronted. Virgil laughed then, fatigued, and quiet, but it was real and happy and that was good enough for Roman.

He went without protest when Virgil led him back to bed for the rest of the day (after first fixing the laundry basket, of course).

* * *

**Janus**

Roman watched Janus through half-lidded eyes from where he was curled on the snake's warm bed. He was sure Patton would feel betrayed at this, but Janus' bed was by far the warmest and comfiest and _best_ bed between all the sides. (Second to Roman's own bed, of course, but no one else was ever with him when he was on that bed, so it didn't count.)

Needless to say, Janus' bed was a common place for Roman to doze.

He was edging on the verge of falling asleep when he heard a thump and a frustrated sigh.

Blinking tiredly, Roman peeked across the room. Janus was at his desk, as he had been for the past two hours. Now, though, instead of scratching notes across a page, or reading through some of the others' notes, he had his head cupped in his hands. He looked tired.

Roman got up and stretched, his talons flexing and tail curling. Shaking himself, he leapt down from the bed and trotted over to the desk.

With a few expert flaps from his wings, Roman landed atop the messy, paper-covered desk. He hurried to get off the pages, walking on the small spots of exposed wooden beneath. Janus looked up at the movement.

"Sorry," he murmured, moving to shuffle the papers into a rough pile to make room for the little dragon.

Roman tilted his head at Janus when he wasn't looking. No jab? Or even a half-hearted lie? He _must_ be tired.

 _Alright,_ Roman thought, moving forward. _Break time._

The dragon moved forward and unapologetically stretched himself across Janus' arms. Janus blinked down at him, uncomprehending for a few seconds.

Then he sighed and leaned back.

"I suppose a small break couldn't hurt," he murmured.

Roman fixed him with an expectant look. Janus read what he was trying to say flawlessly, and scowled.

"I can't stop working for the rest of the day," he said. "Things need to be completed."

Roman held his gaze.

Janus, tired and worn as he was, gave in — surprisingly easily, too.

"Alright..." He sighed, nodding. "Alright."

Roman moved away to let him stand and push his chair back into the desk. Then he crawled hazardously up Janus' arm, desperately trying not to dig in his talons, and curled around the deceitful side's shoulders.

"What do you think, Baby Smaug?" Janus asked. "Take a power nap or go and socialise with the delinquents?"

Roman purred, amused. They both already knew the answer.

Janus sighed again, as if he really was inconvenienced. "Fine."

Roman pressed his face into the flushed skin of Janus' neck. He didn't stop himself from trilling happily when Janus closed his bedroom door behind him and made his way down the hall.

* * *

**Patton**

Most days, Roman didn't like being in his room when he was like this. It was cut off from the others and separated from the common area downstairs. Like this, Roman wanted to be around people. He wanted to be darting around legs (and incidentally pissing them off while they tried not to step on him) and watching movement flitter around the kitchen and race away from a few playful, grabbing hands.

But some days, few and far in between but no less impossible, Roman wanted to be alone.

These were some of the worst days. When he didn't leave his room and hid that his self-loathing had been so bad that he'd shrunk and grown scales. When his brain convinced him that the others hated him, and he only annoyed everyone when he was like this. When he curled up on his too-big and too-empty bed and tried to hide from the world.

Unfortunately, on this particular Bad Day, Roman wasn't the only one feeling like garbage.

There was a soft, quiet knock on the bedroom door.

"Roman?" a soft, quiet voice asked through the wood. Roman's ears pricked, listening, but he didn't move otherwise. "I just want to know how you're doing, kiddo. You haven't come out of your room today. Is everything alright?"

Patton sounded uncharacteristically... downtrodden, was the only word Roman could really come up with.

He lifted his head and turned to look idly at the door, thinking about how Patton could get stuck in depressive episodes. He wondered if the moral side had gone to the others for help yet or was trying to shake himself out of it by reaching out to help Roman.

The dragon sighed. Patton couldn't get less selfless, could he?

Sitting felt like a chore, but Roman still managed to push himself to his talons and jump from the bed. Flapping up to get to the door handle, Roman pulled it down and kicked against the wall. Even with this effort, the door only creaked open a crack.

It would have to be enough, Roman decided, letting go and landing expertly on the ground.

It _was_ enough, as it turned out. With the unspoken invitation now granted, Patton cautiously pushed the door open further. His round and unnaturally lonely eyes searched the room before falling on Roman, sitting at the entrance like some small, less threatening gargoyle. (Once Virgil had called Roman a 'sentient garden ornament'. Roman would be forever convinced Virgil purposely timed his joke, because he'd never seemed particularly remorseful when Janus had nearly choked on his drink.)

"Oh," Patton breathed. "Hey, kiddo. I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you—"

Roman interrupted by standing up and circling the moral side's ankles and then retreating back into his room. He paused a moment away from scrambling back onto his bed because Patton hadn't followed him in, like he was supposed to.

"I'll leave you to yourself, sweetheart," Patton said, his normally cheery voice painfully soft. He started to withdraw.

Roman made an admittedly embarrassing noise that somehow came out sounding like a cat honking and a barking ferret.

Patton must have been as shocked as Roman felt, because he stuck his head swiftly back into the room. Roman fixed him with the deadliest stare he could muster.

Eventually, Patton got the idea.

His smile looked relieved when he gave in and emerged into the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. His footsteps were muffled between his socks and the thick carpet as he shuffled over to the bed. Roman waved a wing, in what was a vaguely welcoming gesture, and Patton sat carefully on the bed.

 _Snuggle time,_ Roman thought in a mockery of Patton's voice. He nudged Patton's arm — and continued to nudge him until he finally got the gist and lowered himself back onto the bed.

Satisfied, Roman shuffled up onto the moral side's stomach and rested his head on his front talons, a mirror of his position early, apart from the new addition to his bed.

Patton chuckled, or it may have been a chuckle if it hadn't been interrupted by a hiccup and choke. Roman looked up, alarmed, to see tears beginning to roll down Patton's cheeks. He yipped and inched further up to nudge Patton's chin.

"Sorry, Ro," he murmured. His breath shuddered out of him. He brought his hands up to run them down Roman's back. Roman hoped it was as comforting for Patton as it was for him.

Roman pawed at his shirt. _Who hurt you,_ he wanted to ask. _I'll bite their fingers off._

"I don't know why I'm like this right now," Patton said, unprompted. "Today hasn't even been that b-bad..."

 _You don't need a reason to have a bad day._ Roman whimpered, spreading his wings out over Patton's torso in a pathetic attempt at a hug. _It's okay._

Patton sniffed but smiled despite his puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "I know I'm not as good as the others at reading what you try to say when you're like this," he said. Roman fought the flinch, fighting back another wave of self-hatred, but all his thoughts dissipated when there was a gentle scratch at his jaw. He melted against Patton's hand, watching him through happily squinted eyes. "But thank you."

Roman chirred lazily. He wouldn't even realise that he'd fallen asleep until he would wake up, much later, Patton snoring quietly, and a blanket thrown over both of them

* * *

**Remus**

For once, Roman was happy with the peace and quiet.

He was curled on the couch. Virgil was across from him, napping. Janus and Logan were upstairs, looking over drafts. Roman had been spared helping them for the day. Patton was humming in the kitchen. Roman distantly wondered if it was so quiet because Remus wasn't around.

And of course, the universe wanted to mess with him.

For a change, it chose to prove him right.

"HEY, BITCH!"

Roman sighed. It was a greeting, not a vie for attention, but it didn't make the announcement of Remus' arrival any less irking.

 _Go away,_ Roman desperately wanted to grumble, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, don't ignore me!" The couch cushion dipped, and the sound of panting and fabric ripping made Roman's ears twitch.

Or would it?

"H-hang on," Remus was saying amongst his puffing. "Just— need to— Ah! Hah! There. Now..." Something sharp poked Roman's shoulder. "Up."

Roman lifted his head and twisted around. Remus grinned proudly down at him, his needle-like teeth bared and shining, much like those red eyes surrounded by green scales.

"I'm in the mood to fuck with something and you're my target," Remus said. "So, get up."

"Find something else," Roman growled, turning away. He didn't see Remus' expression drop, but with the following silence, he could picture the moment it happened in his mind.

"That wasn't what was supposed to happen," Remus muttered, sounding confused.

"Get used to disappointment, then," Roman told him.

"Come _onnn!"_ Remus whined. Roman felt teeth seize the corner of his wing and tug it back. There was another _riiiiip_ of fabric and Remus' muffled yelp of horror as he slipped off the couch. Still holding onto Roman's wing.

So naturally, when Remus landed on the ground and Roman landed on top of him, he wasn't incredibly surprised when he got a good few bats over the head.

Roman leapt off him and shook himself out. "Leave me alone, Remus."

"Roman." It was the hint of serious desperation in his brother's voice made him pause. "I just… want to mess around for a bit. It doesn't have to be long, just enough for me to… get out of my own head. For a little while."

Roman withheld a quiet sigh.

"Please?" came a quiet, not-quite whimper.

Roman squared his shoulders and turned, scowling over at the (slightly bigger, oh dear) creative dragon.

"Alright, dear brother," he said, and Remus brightened, almost vibrating with excitement. Roman crouched to the ground and Remus shrieked with delight, mirroring him. "You have five seconds to run."

Eventually, the pair would end up breaking a plate, wake a startled and disgruntled Virgil, and almost trip Logan and Janus down the stairs.

No one could really find it in themselves to be truly annoyed, though.


End file.
